


Colorless Color

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things John will give Anton, and some that he won't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorless Color

Tokyo is a city of chameleons; that's why Anton likes it. He loves the way beautiful boys and girls walk into a club looking normal and end up painted in green, violet and gold. He loves how hips suddenly sway toward each other if it's late enough and the music is just right. He wants to change his colors, too.

He tries to buy a pack of cigarettes from one of the machines on the street, but it won't work now that it's long past dusk. He finds a payphone instead and uses his international calling card to phone John. Whatever time it is in L.A., he doesn't know, but John sounds tired and groggy when he answers.

"You should come to Tokyo," Anton whispers, as though someone's just outside, listening. "We'll have some fun."

"A casting meeting in Tokyo, Marty? This week?" John says with an exasperated sigh. "I'll be there. But you've gotta stop springing these things on me at the last minute."

Anton can't help the excited laugh that bubbles out of him.

*

Two days later, he slinks out of his too-big hotel bed and throws on a T-shirt and skinny jeans, goes outside and buys a pack of cigarettes. He sits in a café and drinks tea, smiles to girls with pigtails who pass by and stare at him, full of adolescent giggles.

John arrives with a small suitcase, looking jetlagged and kissable. He sits down across from Anton and arches a brow.

"You'd better have a cigarette for me," he says.

Anton smirks and hands him the one tucked behind his ear, the one that was ready and waiting for him.

*

He won't let John sleep because he'll never kick the jetlag if he doesn't stay awake. Mainly, he won't let John sleep because he doesn't know just how long John plans to stay. And Anton wants every minute he can get.

In the nightclub, he turns to look at John and lets out a little gasp when he sees the lights have dyed him blue.

"This is fun, right?" Anton asks, holding up his drink, as though liquor equals entertainment. Most times, it does. John gives him a slightly incredulous look.

"You think this is fun?" he replies. It could sound condescending, but it doesn't. John has never condescended to him.

"I think you're fun." He tries to give John a meaningful look. "It's so cool that you're here, y'know?"

John smiles softly and reaches out to run his thumb across Anton's chin. "You're so young," he says. It's wistful and it's dirty and it makes Anton ache.

"So teach me some grown-up ways to have fun," he suggests. John laughs.

"As if you don't already know them all."

*

John's not interested in the bed, not really. He slips his black tie over Anton's eyes and knots it at the base of his skull, sliding the pads of his fingers over the shorn hair, where springy curls used to be.

It's like he's remembering. John once said to him—casually, one time over drinks: the older you get, the more and more there is to remember.

Anton tries to thrust against the fingers carefully prying him open, panting when he feels their slickness. John's other strong hand holds him still against the wall, palm flush against his spine, and Anton rubs both his cheek and his cock against the faint texture of the wallpaper.

"I came a long way for this," John says, just before he sinks fully into Anton's tight heat, lighting him up from the inside. "So fucking worth it."

Even with the blindfold, Anton sees more colors than he can count.

*

He wakes up early just to have one more cigarette with John, which turns into one more blowjob, then a few more kisses. Then another cigarette. He watches John smoke by the window, looking out at the sprawling city blanched by morning light, and he tries to convince himself that this was the best idea he's ever had.

He tries so fucking hard.

"This was fun," Anton says, just as John puts out his cigarette in the tray. John crosses the room and returns to Anton, who's sitting up in bed, naked, with the sheets bunched around his waist. He takes the handle of his suitcase in one hand, tips Anton's chin up with the other; kisses his lips, then his forehead.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "That's one way to put it."


End file.
